


The Stuff of Future Nightmares

by habenaria_radiata



Category: Persona 5, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition AU, Domestic Fluff, How to Fail Parenting 101, Humor, M/M, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-21 19:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17648777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/pseuds/habenaria_radiata
Summary: Hibiki hadn't asked Yamato to adopt a baby with him under the delusion that either of them would be raking in any Parent of the Year awards, but he can't say he'd anticipated the many versatile ways there exist to fuck up a hapless child for life.They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but sometimes it's just paved with dry cloves and a mountain of dirty wet wipes.





	The Stuff of Future Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KelpieChaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpieChaos/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day, KelpieChaos! I hope you enjoy it. ♥

* * *

   
  
    One could look at Yamato Hotsuin and correctly presume a number of things regarding his character. The man wore authority like a mantle. When he crossed his arms, he adopted the rigid posture of someone so tight-assed, his colon could be used as an unethically-sourced diamond mine. He had the sort of eye bruises suggestive of a person who had gotten a solid five hours of sleep over the course of his entire life.  
  
    What one did not often think upon looking at him was, 'Ah, yes, there is a man I trust with the tender caretaking of a child' -- unless one wanted said child returned with either irreparable emotional trauma, or the budding aspirations of a serial killer.  
  
    Even so, he was trying. Yamato had all the nurturing instinct of a feral footstool, but once Akira was irreversibly enmeshed into their lives, his pride refused to allow him to approach child rearing with anything less than he would any other challenge they'd tackled together. They were making progress, shaky though it was, and Hibiki would never ask for anything more.  
  
    Since Yamato had reacted to the concept of 'skinship' by recoiling from him as if Hibiki had grown a second head that was also a spitting cobra, Hibiki was generally the one to stay home with the baby any time some errand was in need of running. It said a lot that Yamato was more willing to brave dealing with the public in a crowded supermarket than he was being alone with an infant, so it was a rare occasion that Hibiki ever argued. Still, even he got stircrazy.  
  
    Yamato had agreed to 'observe the child' so he could make a quick grocery run for a few things they'd run out of. It was nice to get back out into the world, just to remember what life was like before a tiny little person was completely reliant on him for his survival. But it was also nice to get back home to said tiny little person too; Akira had recently started to laugh, and every time he did made Hibiki's insides explode with butterflies.  
  
    As he slid his key into the lock, his arms laden with grocery bags full of fresh vegetables and formula, Hibiki pushed the door open and was met with a piercing scream. There on the living room floor was Akira, wailing as hard as his little lungs would allow. His face was scrunched and bright red, tears rolling down his cheeks, his balled fists flailing.  
  
    The creature in front of him would have given a lesser parent a stroke right then and there. What Hibiki could only reasonably assume to be some sort of horrid bird demon crouched over Akira with both his ankles clutched in one hand, its hooked beak poised over him like it were deciding which of his organs looked the juiciest.  
  
    Hibiki's heart slammed to a stop. The keys fell out of his fingers, and he froze to stillness as the bird turned to stare at him. It had a rather familiar shade of lavender hair tumbling around its black face.  
  
    " _Yamato_?!" He blinked several times, his eyes darting from the unmistakable tuft of hair at the back of his skull down to the leather plague mask obscuring his entire face, then further down to the bright yellow kitchen gloves pulled all the way up to his elbows.  
  
    Too many questions packed themselves onto the surface of his tongue for him to get out only one of them, so the only thing Hibiki could manage with any sort of eloquence was to blurt, "Where the fuck is wrong with you?"  
  
    Akira was still crying there on the floor, his small body at an almost 45 degree angle where Yamato was holding him up. With a shake of his head, Hibiki jerked to attention and yanked the door shut behind him. "Yamato, what are you doing?"  
  
    "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, his snide tone crystal clear even as his voice was muffled by thick leather. "I am attempting to remove the filth currently encrusted to your stray child."  
  
    Very slowly, the bridge of Hibiki's nose wrinkled. "Well, it _looks_ like you're about to re-enact some Promethean bullshit on my 'stray child'. Seriously, where the hell did you get that thing?!" Their apartment was extremely nice by his standards, but that hardly meant they were spoiled for storage. Hibiki felt confident that he'd know if they had a plague mask just lying around. Especially one that looked so...unsettlingly authentic.  
  
    Yamato seemed to ignore him for a moment. He cocked his head, and Hibiki could see the thoughtful tilt of the mask's beak as he sized Akira up. "His liver can't possibly be any larger than a kiwi. Hardly worth the effort." He looked back at Hibiki, then, and he was struck by how remarkably disapproving Yamato could look even when not one of his features was visible. "It was all I could find on short notice."  
  
    Poor Akira screamed again, and Hibiki scrambled to drop down beside him and pet soothingly at his curls before any of their neighbors decided to call the authorities. "Okay, what the hell is wrong with you? You're terrifying him! He's probably going to develop some lifelong phobia of birds or plague doctors now, thanks."  
  
    Without even missing a beat, Yamato responded, "Fear builds character." Then he picked up a clean wet wipe, set his shoulders so hard that Hibiki could visualize exactly how colorfully he was grimacing behind his mask, and began the process of attempting to clean him up again. When he tossed the dirty wipe into a veritable mountain of them, Hibiki couldn't help but laugh into a closed fist. "How do babies have so many... _crevices_?" Yamato spit. "I want you to know, I've been elbow-deep in demon intestines before, and this is still the most disgusting thing I have ever done. Infants are grotesque."  
  
    This time, it was Hibiki's turn to ignore him. He crouched over Akira and grabbed his keys up off the floor, dangling them over his face. The tears stopped immediately. His big grey eyes were fixed on the shiny gold of his keys, and he thrust his hands up towards them and grasped one of them with surprising strength. "I think he's a magpie. You should have just distracted him. See? He's all good, now that you're not looming over him like you're going to eat him."  
  
    Yamato lifted his head at that, no doubt to watch Akira struggle to yank the keys straight out of Hibiki's hand. He grunted as he strained, and Hibiki laughed again and surrendered them to him. "Much better," Hibiki cooed. Then he pinched playfully at Akira's cheek for good measure. "So...I'm surprised at you."  
  
    The first time Akira spit up on him, Yamato sat himself in the shower for forty-five minutes and refused to come out. This was the first time he'd ever known the man to volunteer to attempt to change one of Akira's diapers, and to say he was struggling with it would be to frame it lightly. Indeed, Yamato huffed and held Akira's chubby legs higher to awkwardly position a clean diaper beneath him. "I was going to wait for you to come home," he admitted, "but it became...unfeasible. He smells unholy. He somehow managed to get excrement on the back of his baby restraints."  
  
    " _Baby restraints_? It's a onesie, Yamato." Hibiki snorted at him and shifted to kiss Akira's forehead while he shook the house keys happily. "Dang, it got all the way up his back? Poor thing had a blowout, huh?"  
  
    At least it was downhill from there. Yamato fastened the clean diaper, then stripped Akira's onesie off, mussing his cute curls. "There. You are no longer filthy. You are welcome."  
  
    As Yamato began the process of peeling the kitchen gloves from his hands, Hibiki leaned down to curl his fingers around the very tip of his mask and push it up over his forehead. "No, do-"  
  
    Too late. His pale face came into view just in time for Hibiki to see his eyes squeeze shut as a rain of herbs littered across his face and down into his lap.  
  
    For several seconds, they were both silent. Then Hibiki laughed so hard that tears sprung up between his eyelashes. "You are the actual most ridiculous person I have ever met." Still grinning, he bent down to hook his fingers around Yamato's chin and lift his head up to kiss him. "Thank you for changing him. You survived your first dirty diaper. How do you feel?"  
  
    Yamato hesitated. "Like I have cloves on my face."  
  
    "Mm..." Hibiki swiped the pad of his thumb over the corner of his mouth to brush away an errant herb, then he grinned for him and kissed him one more time. "I'm sure Akira appreciates being nice and clean too."  
  
    He lifted Akira up from the floor and shucked him to his side, one of his hands still clutching his keys and the other latching to Hibiki's shirt. Yamato frowned at them, tilting his head back, the mask's beak still jutting up from his forehead and his hair spilling around it. "Considering the nonstop screaming that seemed only marginally more appropriate from a torture cellar, I can't imagine he would agree."  
  
    "Aww, I'm sure the wipe was just cold on his little baby butt. It's probably better than sitting in a dirty diaper, you know?" Hibiki slid his arm beneath Akira's clean diaper and kissed his splotchy red cheek adoringly. "I'm going to go get him a clean onesie. Or baby restraint, if you insist."  
  
    "It covers his hands, Hibiki."  
  
    "It's only that one! He needed it when he kept scratching his face with his little infant talons."  
  
    He turned away to take Akira to his room when another grunt of displeasure erupted from him. He strained in Hibiki's arms, reaching out for Yamato and dropping the keys to the floor. Yamato sat there, frozen, his eyes wide and unsure. Hibiki bit his lip and smiled, holding him out so Akira could latch onto his neck. "Guess he wants to stay here. I'll be right back."  
  
    Yamato remained still as a stone when Hibiki turned away from him, his hand hovering over Akira's back in all his uncertainty. Akira hardly seemed to mind. He jammed his thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes, his cheek pressed to Yamato's collar as he snuggled against his chest.  
  
    He was trying. Unorthodox as their family was...they were trying.  
  
    But he still intended to confiscate that fucking mask.


End file.
